


Pancakes flavored with love

by killing_kurare



Category: Tiny Pretty Things (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killing_kurare/pseuds/killing_kurare
Summary: Bette wakes up at Matteo's being greeted with breakfast in bed ... and it couldn't be more different from what she's used to.
Relationships: Bette Whitlaw/Matteo Marchetti
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2021





	Pancakes flavored with love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cozy_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/gifts).



> Fill for https://comment-fic.livejournal.com/

The smell of fresh coffee and sweet pancakes tickles Bette's nose. She can feel sunlight on her face and see the brightness of a new day through her still closed eyelids.

When was the last time she allowed herself to sleep in?

She can't even remember, but before her mind can focus on the amount of hours she wasted today, hours of training she really needed to become better, Matteo's voice brings her back.

"Good morning, sunshine," he greets her and Bette stretches before opening her eyes at last. She's in his room, his bed; unfamiliar, yet so cozy. The sheets still smell fresh, and the blanket is so fluffy she's gonna die.

"Is it morning already?" she asks and dives back under the covers, nothing but blonde locks still visible on the pillow.

Matteo chuckles. "Awesome. If you still want to sleep, I'll have this breakfast all to myself. Pancakes, Croissant, juice and coffee ..."

Bette re-appears right away. "Not a chance! Gimme!" she exclaims and Matteo laughs out as he puts the tray down before the girl.

"Mamma prepared it for you, but I helped."

"Let me guess, you made the coffee?" Bette teases and takes a sip. It's still hot, but drinkable. Perfect, actually. Just like the rest of this morning.

"I'll have you know that I'm an excellent cook," Matteo informs with a certain pride in his voice. "I'll make something for you, and it'll be the best damn thing you ever had."

Bette takes a bite of the pancakes and chews. "Mmh ... sorry, but the food of your mother will be really hard to beat. This is delicious."

She had eaten so many pancakes, so many breakfasts in various restaurants and hotels ... but nothing ever tasted as good as this.

"The secret ingredient is love," Matteo says softly.

Bette feels a blush coming on. "Don't be so cheesy," she says, though she actually likes the sound of it: Pancakes flavored with motherly love.

The perfection of this morning only makes her more aware of what is lacking in her own life, her own family. Her fingers tremble slightly, and as if she needed another reminder of how wrecked she was, her foot started to throb painfully. Her first instinct was to reach for a pill, a pain killer, something to smother the pain, inside and out.

But instead she took another bite of the pancake. And another. And another.

"Oh, Bette, slow down. No need to eat so fast, there are still some in the kitchen, if you want m-"

"Can I please stay here?" The girl suddenly blurts out, mouth still full, and Matteo's smile falters. "Please?" Bette's voice trembles, muffled by the pancakes, her despair nevertheless almost tangible.

Matteo puts the tray away and shuffles closer to take her in his arms, to hold her a tight as he can when she leans in and the first teardrops fall onto his shirt.

"I promise, I won't let you go. As long as you need me, I'll be here," he reassures and keeps holding her until she stops shaking and relaxes again.

"Thanks, it's okay now," Bette says, leans back and wipes her tears. "Sorry," she adds, not without a hint of embarrassment.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he says. "Take your time. Finish breakfast and come down when you're ready. Mamma's already preparing her famous Lasagna, so there's something to look forward to." He winks at her and gets up, leaves the room.

As soon as the door closes, he can't help himself but clench his fists; it takes all he has not to punch the wall. "What have these horrible people done to you?" he whispers and again vows silently to protect her as good as he can.


End file.
